


The whisper of words.

by thesilencewithin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28620069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilencewithin/pseuds/thesilencewithin
Summary: This includes some short ideas that I wrote.It includes different races, gender, etcAll the work is my own, do not copy please.(Sorry to my fellow hp fans but this probably won’t be related to hp, I just had to pick a fandom).





	1. Breathtaking beauty.

**Author's Note:**

> In first person, the other character is dark skin using they/them pronouns. No assigned names.

There they are, sitting in the corner, basking in the sun while their book is placed in their hands. They looked almost ethereal sitting there, with their tight curls swiftly tied in a low loose bun. Streaks of hair glistening in the sun. Their brown eyes looking like honey, the intricate designs of it now up for show. The person’s dark skin looking even more beautiful in the sunlight. I can scarcely imagine how one could look so effortlessly beautiful. 

Parts of their hair was now covering their face and I want to badly push it away.  
Their hands were moving up and down the spine of the book too, it’s something I’ve noticed they do while they’re reading. Meanwhile, their lips were neatly outlined with liner and slightly open, probably something they do while concentrating. 

The person’s concentration gives their face a certain glow, it told the world no one could pull them away from the fantasies playing in their head. They told me in the past how reading was an escape for them, and how they’d cherish every book they held. It’s something I admire about them, how they’re able to put themself into the book as if they’re an actual character, and how passionate they are about reading. 

Passion is something I crave, I crave it as much as I crave for their touch. For their warmth. For the touch of their lips on mine.


	2. The warmth that comes with the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First-person narrative. No specification of appearances, gender etc...  
> I don’t really like this so sorry.

I set off, stumbling out of the house while promptly placing my scarf around my neck. I kept moving at a rapid pace, attempting to get as far away from my chaotic house as possible.

It was awful living there, so disorderly, so loud, so disorganised. I have to go on a hunt every day to find any of my work. I’ve repeatedly tried blocking out the rowdy house, but to no avail. My entire family seemed to have teamed up to make my holiday a living hell. There wasn’t a moment of peace to be found, and I eventually started begging them to be quiet - to just let me do at least a little work. So I wouldn’t be as stressed anymore, but they refuse to listen. Everything is cramped, from my mind to my own house, the place that I’m supposed to feel the most comfortable and safe in.

Goosebumps were now gradually occurring on my body as I’m walking, while my breathing was getting heavy. Smoke starting to escape from my lips, senses getting numb, frost building up on rooftops. 

It’s cold, too cold, almost too cold to speak. I decided to lift my scarf further so it can cover more parts of my face. I let out a sigh, everything felt so so cold. I hate it. I came outside to feel free, as a sort of escape, but I’m feeling nothing but cold. If anything, being inside doesn’t seem too bad anymore. Anything to avoid dying from hypothermia, I don’t want to meet the same fate as Jack Dawson.

I’m close to a hill now, a quite large hill actually. My legs were getting weak so I knelt down, allowing my fingers to slowly drift over the wilted grass.

Eventually, I decided to just bury my face into my arms that were resting on my knees. I let out a sigh and started smiling a bit. It’s silent. There’s pure silence. After living in my house, It seemed that silence was something I wouldn’t be able to reach again. Something lost in the past, but here I am. Indulging in this silence, it’s comforting almost.

I felt a slight drop on my head, then another, and soon enough, it was pouring. I lifted my head to see the rain coming down; the sky going grey. This felt nice for some reason. The feeling of rain on my skin, watching the raindrops clashing to the ground, hearing it all and seeing all the puddles slowly forming. I love this. 

I stood up while the rain calmed down a bit, and I started to spin around slowly. Arms extended, scarf now abandoned on the ground, hair messy, whole body drenched, face still staring at the sky. 

The sound of the rain, that slight silence that stayed along with it, the feel of the rain on my skin, and the relaxing sounds it made... 

It’s here. the feeling I wanted all these weeks, the comfort I’ve been longing for, the escape that I’ve been searching for. It’s all here, in this moment. This moment that is ridding me of my stress, allowing me to forget where I need to be, letting my responsibilities slip away. I’ve been craving this feeling for ages, this feeling of being free and careless, that feeling like I’m the only person here and I’m in the only moment that matters.

My spinning slowly came to a halt as I started to feel dizzy, however, that feeling inside me still stayed and I wanted it to stay forever. I wanted the rain to never leave since there’s no other times like this, where it’s just me and the rain and all the warmth that comes along with it. The cold it brings down to everyone else has completely avoided me. Instead of that bitter feeling, all that came over my body was warm, that same warmth that I wish could last forever.


End file.
